


Boys and Skirts

by BrokenHeadphones



Category: South Park
Genre: Crossdressing, M/M, Mild Angst, Useless Homosexuals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2019-03-18 22:20:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13691001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrokenHeadphones/pseuds/BrokenHeadphones
Summary: “Something is seriously wrong with the blondes in this town.”“You’re blonde,” Tweek replied. Kenny gave Tweek a conspiratorial wink, repeating, “Something is seriously wrong with the blondes in this town.”





	Boys and Skirts

**Author's Note:**

> uhm yeah i have no excuse  
> yeah i know i promised a three-parter but uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh  
> oof

Craig should have expected that Kenny wouldn’t have celebrated homecoming normally. Yeah, he went to the game and the school’s afterparty and the _actual_ afterparty, but sometime between his school appearance and his arrival, he had changed his outfit. His parka and jeans were replaced with a long-sleeved crop top and a pair of high-waisted jean shorts. Actually, that wasn’t all—he went all-out. Make-up, a braided blonde wig, knee-high socks. He could have actually pulled off being a girl if he hadn’t immediately approached Craig and Tweek and given away his identity.

Tweek, for his part, seemed to think that Kenny was a stranger until he spoke.

“Hey, Tweek, Craig.”

“Kenny?” Tweek asked.

“I’ll take your surprise as a compliment,” Kenny said with a playful wink. Tweek actually blushed, dammit. “Have either of you seen Butters?”

“No. Fuck off,” Craig answered before Tweek could say anything, flipping Kenny off. Kenny didn’t seem to care, “Tweek, mind helping me look?”

“No. Fuck off,” Craig repeated, fully aware that he was being redundant. Tweek huffed, shaking off Craig’s arm, “I can make my own decisions.”

He gave a small smile at Kenny, “I’ll help.”

“Thanks,” Kenny shot a smirk at Craig. If Craig was willing to show much emotion, he most definitely would have growled. Instead, he satisfied himself with flipping Kenny off.

 

 

“Sorry, I’m busy today,” Tweek said as they sat together under the bleachers. Seriously, fuck gym.

“You know I don’t mind hanging out at the coffee house, babe,” Craig replied, squeezing the other’s hand. “I’ll do homework or something.”

Tweek smiled, placing a kiss on Craig’s cheek, “No, I mean hanging out. I _do_ have friends, you know.”

“I know that,” Craig replied. Then, unable to resist, asked, “Who?”

Tweek paused, giving that thoughtful hum like he knew whatever he was about to say would upset Craig. Craig had to actively keep himself from tensing.

Eventually, he gave a breath and replied, “I’m hanging out with Kenny and Butters.”

“They asked you to, like, crossdress with them.”

“Yes.”

“When?”

“At the party,” Tweek muttered.

“Where are you meeting them?”

“They’re coming over,” Tweek’s voice turning tense.

“Are they coercing—”

“Dammit, Craig, I don’t need another mom!”

Craig flinched at the other’s shout, especially when the other gave a frustrated twitch, fingers curling as if they were seeking out a thermos.

“I’m sorry, Tweek. I just don’t trust them.”

“I’m well aware of that. I don’t need you to trust them.”

Tweek let go of Craig’s hand, and shuffled around to straddle Craig’s legs, “I just need you to trust me. Okay?”

Craig hummed, placing his hands on the other’s hips, “You’re right, babe. I’m sorry.”

“I forgive you. Obviously,” Tweek gave a smile, wrapping his arms around Craig’s neck. “How much longer is this class?”

“Like…” Craig glanced at his phone. “Ten minutes?”

“I don’t mind being a little late for next period if you don’t,” Tweek muttered, leaning in to nibble at Craig’s ear—as if his intentions were unclear or Craig wasn’t wholly on board.

 

When Tweek walked into algebra a few minutes late, he couldn’t help blushing when Kenny sent him a knowing smirk.

Tweek fidgeted restlessly on his bed, twitching just enough that these legos weren’t coming together properly. He hadn’t been this nervous in a while and the twitching had returned with a vengeance. Still he had been coffee-free for the better part of two years (mostly thanks to Craig), so it was controllable enough that Tweek took a deep breath. He was able to relax once he added to his lego tower thing. One block at a time. One block at a time. There was no rhyme or reason to his process, he just kept building up until it got too tall (then he took it down piece by piece). He stuck his hand into his lego bucket for another piece when he heard a knock on the front door. He gave a small yelp of alarm, throwing his hand out of the bucket and sending pieces flying.

Dammit, dammit, dammit.

Craig’s voice echoed in his head. Deep breath in. Deep breath out. In. Out.

Then, one block at a time. Worry about one block at a time.

He was able to clean up most of the mess before he heard a knock at his own door, breaking his focus. He didn’t react as violently, though, instead standing up, brushing aside the remaining mess with the side of his foot and opening his door.

Butters looked just as nervous as Tweek felt, but Kenny had no problem cheerfully bursting into the room, looking around with fascination, “Holy heck, that’s a lot of legos.”

“Uh- yeah. They…help,” Tweek responded, stepping aside and gesturing for Butters to come in. It was—very mildly—reassuring to be near someone just as nervous. Kenny shrugged, “I thought you would’ve started using fidget spinners.”

“Sometimes, like in public. But like, with legos I can, like, measure my success?”

“Makes sense,” Kenny replied. He slid his backpack off his back and sat down on the carpet, “That’s right! Butters, let’s show Tweek what we brought!”

Butters dutifully took off his own backpack, giving a small, shy smile at Tweek, “Don’t worry, we won’t have you do anything you don’t wanna.”

“’Course not. We’re gonna show off and you can tell us if you’re interested or not or whatever. ‘Kay?”

That sounded just as awkward to Tweek, but he tried his best to give a smile as he nodded. Kenny showed no hesitation as he started pulling clothes out of his backpack, “Do you want us to change in here or in the bathroom?”

Pressure. It was fine. Manageable. Just an either-or. And neither answer was wrong. Deep breath.

“Uhm. Here, I guess?” Tweek muttered. Kenny gave him a smile, “Okay. Just tell us if you feel uncomfortable, alright?”

Tweek gave a nod, and Kenny flashed him a wink before turning his attention back to the clothes in front of him. He bundled up a bunch of cloth and handed it to Butters. Butters looked through the pile, sending a glance at Tweek before kneeling down to whisper something in Kenny’s ear. Kenny whispered something back before placing a kiss on Butters’ cheek, following it up with another whisper. Butters gave a pout, but nodded, heading back to the other side of the room to start getting changed. Tweek’s glance shifted between Kenny and Butters as both of them started to change. He hadn’t really seen any other guys naked besides summertime. Something about swimsuits made it easy to not view it as anything strange, but this? Watching two guys undress, knowing that they were changing into girls’ clothes, was most definitely strange. He watched his bedsheets until he heard Kenny speak, “Hey, are you okay?”

“Gah!” he jumped, looking up at Kenny. He flushed in embarrassment, “I’m fine, sorry.”

“Are you sure?” Kenny asked, taking a step back when Tweek nodded. He did a little spin to show off his outfit—a simple white skirt and a purple halter-top. The only really decorative bits were a thin beaded belt, a necklace, and a wig that had two braids. “Princess Kenny. I thought something familiar might help you feel a little more comfortable.”

Although this looked very little like the original Princess Kenny costume, Tweek could appreciate the effort. At Kenny’s expectant look, he gave a shy smile, “You look, uh. Good. Great.”

Kenny chuckled, not mockingly, and smiled at him, giving a fake little curtsy, “Thank you very much.”

He straightened and walked over to Butters, who was messing with a bow on the side of his short wig. He took Butters’ hand gently, giving a reassuring squeeze, “Wanna show off for Tweek a little, Marj?”

“Marj?” Tweek couldn’t help asking. There was a pause before Butters responded, “It’s, uh. It’s short for Marjorine.”

“That sounds familiar—”

“Remember when we thought the girls’ weird paper fortune thing was real? And we made Butters dress as a girl?”

Tweek gave a small ‘ah’ of realisation, glancing over Butters. Marjorine. Whichever.

“Hey, Marj, what’s wrong?” Kenny asked, letting go of Butters’ hand to wrap an arm around Butters’ waist. “Babe, I thought you said it was fine.”

Butters mumbled something to Kenny, and the shorter one gave a fond, sympathetic smile, “Hey, I’m right here. It’s just us and Tweek, right? I’ll love you no matter how you dress, and I think Tweek wants to see, huh? No reason to be scared of him.”

Butters gave a small hum of agreement and Kenny loosened his arm so that Butters could do a quick turn-around. The skirt of his dress floated up a bit as he turned, and he tugged nervously at the thin sleeves.

“Thank you for being so brave, Marj. Do you want to change?”

Butters gave some sort of groan and then gave a shrug.

“Alright, you can think about it, okay?” Kenny gently squeezed Butters’ hip before looking over at Tweek. “So what did you think?”

“It was…pretty good actually. I always thought dresses would look really weird.”

“Well, some dresses are made for curves. But it’s not that difficult to find dresses that look amazing. Especially on Marj.”

“Ken!” Butters gave a flustered protest. “I’m not that amazing—”

“No, you really do, uh, look great. Honest,” Tweek said. Kenny sent him a smile, as if thanking him for speaking up. Butters kicked gently at the carpet, “Ah, geez, fellas. You’re makin’ me blush.”

“And you still look adorable,” Kenny replied, placing a kiss on Butters cheek.

Butters gave a cute little grumble that Tweek couldn’t help chuckling at, and Kenny kissed Butters cheek once more before pulling away, “Speaking of adorable—do you think that you’d want to try on some clothes Marj and I picked out for you?”

Tweek’s small smile faded to nervousness, and he bit at his lip before giving a hesitant nod. There was a pause before Kenny walked over to his backpack, “Just let me know if you want to stop at any moment, okay?”

Tweek gave another nod, too busy gnawing at his lip to really speak. Kenny turned his attention to the backpack, pulling out a few different shirts. He gestured Butters over, and the other quickly headed over, sitting beside the bag. The two debated over a few items of clothing before Kenny stood up with a smile holding up a rather plain black skirt, decorated only with some pleats, and a pale green button-down shirt with a rounded collar and short sleeves.

“How about this? You seem to like button-downs, and the skirt is pretty comfortable,” Kenny asked, holding the clothes out for Tweek. Tweek gave a small, mildly uncomfortable smile as he took the clothes. He paused a moment before he set the clothes on his bed and started to unbutton his shirt. He was proud enough to note that his fingers didn’t stutter much as he undid his shirt. That, and he only made one slip-up when he was buttoning up the other shirt. It was…strange not having long sleeves. He wasn’t sure exactly if his arms looked too thin. Or too guy-y. Kenny, at 5’6”, had a pretty androgynous appearance, so he could look like a girl if he really wanted to, and Tweek knew his physique was nothing like Kenny’s. Despite his musings, he took off his jeans and slid on the skirt. It made him feel…nothing, surprisingly. He expected to feel either some weird feeling of…individuality, for lack of a better word. Like when he told Craig that he was actually gay. Well, that or some sort of self-disgust. Or some sort of amazement at the weird situations he found himself in.

But there wasn’t any of that. He was still Tweek, just…with a skirt on.

“Mind if we play around a little bit?” Kenny asked. Tweek immediately blushed, “P-play?”

Kenny paused, then gave a laugh, “Wow, would not have expected _you_ to have such a dirty mind. No, I meant like do something with your hair and stuff. I don’t like when people just touch me randomly, so I didn’t want to just start pawing at you.”

“O-oh! Oh,” Tweek said, lowering his head in embarrassment. “I mean, uh, yeah, that’s- ah- that’s fine.”

“Alright,” Kenny said, adjusting the skirt around Tweek’s waist and tucking the shirt into the skirt. “Marj is a whiz at this sort of thing—seriously, I have no clue where he learned how to be so…good with his hands.”

Okay, that was most _definitely_ an innuendo, and, as Kenny un-tucked his shirt, Tweek was able to watch Butters’ face turn red, protesting, “Ken!”

“Geez, you both have such dirty minds,” Kenny chuckled, glancing over Tweek’s appearance. Butters started rummaging through the bag he brought as Kenny continued, “Something is seriously wrong with the blondes in this town.”

“You’re blonde,” Tweek replied. Kenny gave Tweek a conspiratorial wink, repeating, “Something is seriously wrong with the blondes in this town.”

Butters pulled a hairbrush out of his backpack as Kenny began re-tucking the button-down into Tweek’s skirt. It would’ve seemed like some sort of tic, if Kenny hadn’t seemed so meticulous about it.

“Would you mind sittin’ down so I can brush your hair?” Butters asked. He took a seat on the bed, shifting restlessly on the bed. That was behaviour Tweek could understand. He got nerves. He gently pushed away from Kenny’s continuous adjustments, sitting on the edge of the bed. Butters offered him a small smile before he looked over Tweek’s hair, “Sorry’ bout Kenny.”

“What about me?” Kenny sounded genuinely affronted.

“You’ve got too much energy sometimes, hun. You make people skittish.”

“No, I don’t. I _don’t_. Do I?”

Tweek gave a shrug, although he kind of agreed. Butters started to brush through Tweek’s hair as the pause hung in the air. Kenny pouted, but he didn’t seem terrible upset, and he eventually gave a sigh, “I’m sorry, I guess.”

“Don’t worry about it, Ken—it’s fine. I just don’t think Tweek knows how to deal with it.”

“I’m not some child who can’t deal with people,” Tweek huffed. Kenny paused for a second before he responded, voice surprisingly level, “Marj didn’t mean to offend you, Tweek.”

“I’m not ten anymore.”

“No one said you were.”

“People act like I am—even Craig just—” Tweek cut himself off, before reiterating, “I’m not a kid. I…I hate when people treat me like I can’t function—ow, _fuck_!”

“Sorry, sorry!” Butters hurried to say, untangling his brush from the knot in Tweek’s hair. Kenny settled beside them on the bed, placing a gentle hand on Tweek’s hand, squeezing gently, “Hey, you can talk with us if you want. We won’t judge you, okay?”

Tweek didn’t respond to that, but he did flip his hand over so that he could squeeze Kenny’s hand back. The three of them sat in companionable silence as Butters finished brushing Tweek’s hair. Afterwards, nothing of note really happened besides them offering to let Tweek watch Butters do Kenny’s make-up. He declined the offer, instead giving the pair a ‘maybe next time.’ He felt nervous, but still hoped they got the implication that there _would_ be a next time. Regardless, they packed up when Tweek’s dad called up about dinner, leaving the shirt and skirt with Tweek.

He may or may not have tried it on the next morning before quickly changing into his regular attire with a flush of ~~embarrassment~~ shame.

Tweek jumped when he felt a hand touch his shoulder, giving a yelp. He flushed when he noticed it was just Craig—he was usually much more aware of the other’s presence, and hadn’t been so startled by him in months, maybe years.

“You alright, babe?” Craig asked, moving slowly to take Tweek’s hand. Tweek took a breath before giving a small smile, “Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry, I had something on my mind.”

Craig gave a hum, and Tweek let go of Craig’s hand to turn back to his locker. As he bent down to grab his English textbook, he heard Craig speak, “Did Kenny and Butters…try anything?”

Tweek gave a groan, rolling his eyes, “I asked you to _trust me_ , dammit, Craig.”

“I don’t trust _them_ ,” Craig grumbled. And people called him emotionless. There was a pause before he continued, “I do trust you. I’m just worried.”

“Why? What are Kenny and fucking _Butters_ gonna do?” Tweek asked loudly. Noticing the attention they were getting (or rather, _he_ was getting), he stood and continued in a hiss, “They’re good people and don’t try to control me like _some people_.”

He bent down to pick up his math textbooks and slammed his locker shut before standing. He glanced over at Craig, and Craig paused a moment before flipping him off with both fingers. He glared, “Oh, fuck you too, Tucker.”

He stormed off to his first period without a backward glance. Craig’s regular place at his side felt empty—oh wait. There was Kenny.

“You alright, sunshine?” Kenny asked, voice balancing between playful and concerned. Tweek opened his mouth to speak, and then closed it again. Kenny hadn’t done anything wrong (yet). He took a deep breath before replying, “I’m…I’m fine. Craig’s being a bitch.”

“Damn, I never thought I’d see the day _Tweek Tweak_ called _Craig Tucker_ a bitch. Life truly is wonderful.”

“Oh, fuck off if you’re going to be an ass about it.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Kenny was quick to apologise, “Look, let me hold your books—”

When Kenny saw Tweek’s expression, he hurriedly added, “As an apology. I know that you’re fully capable of holding your stuff _and_ mine and probably me too.”

Tweek’s defensive expression softened, and he paused in the hallway. He did eventually pass Kenny his math textbook, keeping his English book in his hand, “There.”

The smile that Kenny shot him really didn’t seem to be fitting, considering that Tweek didn’t think carrying someone else’s things was any sort of favour. But whatever, Kenny was a strange one. And it was nice, walking beside him. He was maybe a little too loud, especially for a Thursday morning, but it was a lot more endearing when Tweek was surrounded by a bunch of background noise as opposed to his quiet bedroom. It was easier to focus on than Craig’s monotonous voice (not that he didn’t love Craig’s voice, but it was easy to get distracted).

Kenny had no problem carrying on a mostly one-sided discussion up till the point where they arrived at Tweek’s classroom. When Tweek reached for his textbook, Kenny hesitated a moment before saying, “Hey, so I’m working tonight and tomorrow, but do you think we could come over, like, Saturday evening? If you don’t have any plans already.”

“Oh—yeah. Yeah, of course. I don’t think Craig was planning anything,” Tweek replied. Kenny gave him a grin, handing over the textbook, “Alright, cool. See ya around.”

“See you,” Tweek replied, giving him a small smile and a wave before heading into his English class, settling in the back.

 

Craig approached him in second period, “Look, babe, I’m sorry for getting worked up.”

Tweek looked over him for a minute, then apparently determined he was sincere. He let go of his anger with a sigh, “I’m sorry for telling you to fuck yourself.”

“No, I…I deserved it,” Craig muttered. “I’ve been…on edge, I guess.”

“How so?”

Craig opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted by the bell. As they took their seats, Tweek called after him, “We’re talking about this later!”

They never really did talk about it, any thoughts of concern overshadowed by irritation. That tended to happen when Craig _motherfucking_ Tucker had some sort of idea that Kenny wanted nothing more than to get into Tweek’s pants. Mother _fucker_. He kind of wish he hadn’t stopped Kenny from socking him one.

 

Half of Saturday was spent sleeping in. Craig usually woke Tweek up early, and they spent time together doing whatever—it ranged from forced exercise to video games to making out. It was…actually kind of upsetting to wake up a little before noon. He didn’t even have any messages or calls on his phone.

Sure, they were fighting, but Tweek could admit that it actually kind of hurt.

He slid out of bed with a grumble, wanting to be mad but unable to manage even that much. He was just…upset, at this point. Borderline numb, though. He didn’t bother getting ready, and simply covered his bedhead with one of Craig’s hats—he had way too many at this point and usually left a few at Tweek’s house. Sufficiently prepared for a lonely breakfast, he headed down the stairs. He was surprised to hear his mom humming in the kitchen; it was Saturday, and his parents were always at the shop by nine.

“Mom?” he asked, peeking into the kitchen. She turned to him and gave a smile, “Oh, Tweek! Good morning, sweetie.”

“What’s going on?”

“What do you mean?” she asked, turning back to the dishes in the sink. “There’s coffee in the— oh, I’m sorry.”

Tweek gave a hum to acknowledge that he heard her before going to look through the pantry, fetching a box of cereal. Breakfast was a quiet affair, but it was _supposed_ to be a silent affair. Alone. Without his mother hovering in the background cleaning.

About halfway through, she took a seat across from Tweek with a cup of coffee, “So, how’s Craig doing?”

Oh. Of course. About half of his parents’ concern for ‘Tweek’ was Craig-based. He was an individual, dammit.

“He’s fine,” Tweek mumbled.

“Alright, well, he’s usually around, and well. We were worried.”

“We’re not breaking up or anything,” Tweek replied, taking his half-full bowl over to the sink. He hurried out of the situation before his mother could express more concern over her not-son. He threw himself onto his bed, groaning into his pillow before reaching for his phone.

No calls. No texts.

Maybe something was seriously wrong?

He should call. Just to be sure.

…what if Craig was just busy? Busy…with someone else when he should have been with Tweek. Tweek gave a small, frustrated growl, throwing his phone on the bed beside him. He picked it up moments later, shooting Butters a text:

                                           _when areu guys gonna show up?_

It was marked read barely a handful of seconds later.

              _uhm_

_I think Ken gets off work at 5?_

_So maybe 6?_

Tweek groaned. He could already feel the boredom pressing in on him. He switched his phone to vibrate so he would know if anyone texted, then threw his phone on the bed and stood up. Might as well finish that Lego tower.

By four o’clock, he still hadn’t heard anything from Craig. He was hungry, his tower was about halfway through the destruction phase, and he _still hadn’t heard anything from Craig_. Fuck Craig, seriously.

He really wanted a cup of coffee. It probably said something that his fingers twitched eagerly at the thought even though it had been nearly two years. It was supposed to get easier with time or something. (It was easier, at least with Craig.)

No, it was better to not think about it. Focus on something else. Legos. He ripped off a red block, tossing it into the bin. His stomach grumbled at him, but he really didn’t want to go downstairs and risk running into his mom. He had no idea if she had left or not, but he didn’t want to take a chance.

Craig would have made him eat if he was here.

Craig wasn’t here.

Tweek tore off another brick. Blue. Red. Green. Green. He jumped when he heard a buzzing sound from his bed, and he looked at his phone. 4:27. Kenny was texting him for some reason (wasn’t he at work? What if he got caught and fired?).

              _so fucking borrrrred_

_come over babe_

Tweek furrowed his brow, until another text came in a few minutes later.

              _fuck sry wrong blonde_

_tho I wouldn’t mind if u came 2 >3’_

Tweek took a seat on his bed, watching the screen for a moment. Well. Better than sitting around for the next hour and a half.

                             _sure_

              _what srsly??? niiiiice_

_I work at the gas station_

_the super shady one_

                             _fuck how shady?_

_ull be fine ill protect you >3’_

_if I die I will haunt you_

_lol ily 2_

The fuck.

Then again, this was Kenny. Until Thursday, he hadn’t even known that Kenny had a serious side—besides, like, Mysterion—so this vein of humour should have been expected. Tweek threw his phone on the bed beside him, rolling his eyes, and then stood to get ready. Sure, he was never really put-together, but even he knew that pajamas weren’t really streetwear.

He dug through his closet for a shirt, pausing when his fingers brushed against a pale green one. It was unlike basically all of his clothes. He hesitated a moment, fingers trailing along the fabric before brushing past it for a plain blue t-shirt.

He walked out of the house five minutes later in jeans, a black hoodie, and a green blouse with a rounded collar.

 

Tweek walked into the gas station, playing with the zipper on his hoodie as he glanced around the small store. Cramped. Claustrophobic. Ugh.

He fidgeted with the zipper, pulling it up and down, and approached Kenny at the counter. Kenny, for his part, was staring down at his phone.

“Uhm,” Tweek broke the silence. Kenny glanced up from the dark screen with a small measure of surprise that was quickly replaced with a grin, “Sorry, I’m used to hearing some crappy engine cut off before anyone, uhm, comes inside. What’s up, dude?”

“Nothing much, I guess,” Tweek mumbled, looking around the store. “Uh, where’s Butters?”

Kenny didn’t immediately respond, and there was a shuffling sound before a pale hand appeared from below the counter, flashing Tweek a peace sign before disappearing.

Oh.

Tweek’s face turned bright red, “Oh- uh- are you, ngh! Are you sure I should be here?”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re fine. I just wasn’t expecting you so soon is all.”

There was some more shuffling, the familiar sound of a zipper, and then Butters appeared. He walked around to the same side of the counter as Tweek and slid onto the counter, “Whatcha doin’ here anyway, fella?”

“I accidentally texted him first. So I decided the more the merrier,” Kenny replied, grinning at Butters before looking over Tweek, “Hey, nice shirt.”

Tweek shoved the zipper of his hoodie all the way in response, face turning pink, “Everything else was dirty.”

“Hey, ya don’t have to hide around us, y’know?” Butters said, smiling, placing a gentle hand on Tweek’s shoulder and squeezing lightly. Tweek shrugged, and he wasn’t sure if he had really wanted to displace the other’s hand, “I never said I was hiding. Everything else was dirty.”

“Okay, okay,” Kenny said. “It still looks nice on you, Tweek.”

There was a pause, and then Tweek looked at the ground, mumbling, “Thank you.”

The sound of a car on the gravel and concrete outside filled the silence, and Kenny straightened up with a dramatic groan, putting his phone in his pocket, “Ugh, I wanted an hour without work.”

Butters gave a chuckle, shoving off the counter, “You are at work, Ken.”

“Didn’t stop you,” Kenny stuck out his tongue playfully. Butters flushed, but grinned. He took Tweek’s arm, “C’mon, let’s get some drinks. Ken showed me all the cameras’ blank spots, so we won’t get caught.”

A few moments later, the door opened and a familiar voice echoed through the small space, “Gimme a pack, McCormick.”

Tweek froze.

“Geez, Tucker, I don’t know. You look a little young.”

“Fuck off,” Craig grumbled. Butters rolled his eyes, but glanced around before pulling a sweet tea out of the coolers, “Geez, I love him to pieces, but one day your boyfriend is gonna flip out on him.”

“Craig’s not violent,” Tweek responded indignantly, glancing around quickly before sneaking out a water bottle. Butters shrugged, “Ken could make anyone, mm…aggressive. It’s a talent.”

“Dude. Sick.”

Butters simply grinned, taking a drink from his bottle and leaving the other conversation audible.

“Wow, I’m bending the rules for you, and I can’t even get a quickie? You’re what’s wrong with today’s society.”

“McCormick, one day you’re going to be in Hell, and you’re going to know who put you there.”

“Been there, done that,” Kenny replied dismissively. “But seriously, you owe me.”

“Tweek’s hanging out with you, isn’t he?”

“Hey, Tweek’s company isn’t some favour for you to grant—don’t flip me off, Tucker, I’m being serious.”

“I’m being serious too. You’re a dick. Fuck you.”

As soon as the door opened and shut, Tweek growled, “That son of a _bitch_! He always acts like he owns me or some shit like that! Gah!”

He wasn’t aware that he was tugging at his hair until Butters gentle hands stopped him, “I think it’s just that it’s no mystery that Craig can’t stand Ken. He’s probably upset that his boyfriend is so close to someone he doesn’t like or somethin’.”

“I get ‘upset’, I really do! I hate this whole fucking—this fucking—I just—fuck him! Ngh!”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Butters hushed him, rubbing a hand down his back. This isn’t what he needed. He just—he needed—Craig knew what to do.

“It must be frustrating, huh?” Kenny’s voice cut in.

“Yeah, it fucking pisses me off!” Tweek responded, “Like, like, he treats me like an object!”

“That must be suffocating.”

“Yeah, exactly! Like I’m just ‘Craig’s boyfriend’ to everyone else—I just want to be Tweek for one damn day, you know? Even my own parents go like ‘how’s Craig?’ before asking how their own fucking son is feeling!” Tweek felt like a baby when he noticed his eyes were wet. So were his cheeks for that matter. He was acting like such a baby, and then Butters started talking again.

“You are Tweek. Always and forever, no matter what anyone thinks of you, Tweek,” he said, voice soft and it wasn’t what he thought he needed but it worked. “You’ve always been Tweek to me and Ken.”

“And for Craig, well, you’ll have to ask him for yourself,” Kenny replied. Then he gave a smile, messing up Tweek’s hair. “But that can wait. Tonight, we’re going to have a girl’s night in and do dumb shit like paint each other’s nails or something.”

“That’s so fucking gay,” Tweek gave a laugh, wiping at his eyes.

“You’re so fucking gay!” Kenny grinned, and Butters smiled at the pair.

 

Kenny told Butters and Tweek to go on ahead when it was a quarter after and his replacement still hadn’t shown. He promised to pick up ‘the stuff’ and text as soon as he was leaving, stating that this would be a good opportunity for them to talk.

Talk about what, Tweek wasn’t quite sure, but the pair left Kenny at the gas station with a wave and, in Butters’ case, a quick kiss. They might have had a conversation, but Butters easily grabbed Tweek’s hand, entwining their fingers together. Butters rambled on about whatever, so Tweek knew that he viewed the hand-holding as nothing significant, but…people didn’t really touch Tweek Tweak often, much less in such a…way. It wasn’t intimate, hardly romantic; it was like a couple of kids (or girls) holding hands. It didn’t mean anything. It shouldn’t have shocked him into silence.

He didn’t say a word the whole walk to his house.

Tweek was glad that the coffee shop didn’t close till 7 and that both of his parents liked to be present when the shop was open. The house was empty. He didn’t want to think what his parents would think of him holding hands with a boy who wasn’t Craig, even if it didn’t mean anything.

“Are you alright, fella?” Butters asked when they were in front of Tweek’s bedroom door. “You’ve been awfully silent this whole time.”

“Huh? Oh, uh,” Tweek responded intelligently, fingers twitching. Butters’ hand was pleasantly cool. Craig’s was always warm. He wondered how Kenny’s hand felt. Then he re-focused while Butters opened the door, “I’m fine. Stressed out, I guess. Pressure.”

“Hey, I’m sure it’ll work out,” Butters led them inside and sat them on Tweek’s bed. “You two just need to have a talk is all.”

Tweek hummed in reply. His fingers twitched, squeezing Butters’ hand. Butters returned the pressure gently as his phone vibrated. He checked his phone, “Ken’s on his way now.”

He switched his phone to silent and leaned over to set in on Tweek’s bedside table. When he shifted back, his shoulder brushed against Tweek and it was so clear that Butters thought nothing of the contact. Tweek shuddered. He wasn’t normally this…sensitive, for lack of a better word, to touch. His fingers twitched, “I, uh. Was he serious about the nails?”

“Huh? Oh, the nail-painting thing? He’ll probably bring some polish, but he wouldn’t force ya. And if you wanted to, you could just do your toenails. No one’ll see that.”

“I just…I don’t know about this- this whole thing,” he gestured aimlessly with his free hand. Butters squeezed his hand gently, “Hey, that’s what we’re here for. Even if ya do decide you don’t like any of the drag, we still wanna be your friends, ya know?”

Tweek gave him a smile, “Thank you. Really.”

“My pleasure,” Butters replied, grinning back as he flopped onto his back. Tweek sank down beside him, rolling onto his stomach and crossing his arms so that their hands didn’t disconnect. They watched each other, then, a pleasant silence blanketing the pair.

And then his gaze slipped for a second, down to Butters’ lips, parted just slightly to let breath through (so he was a mouth breather then?). His gaze darted back up to Butters’ eyes, just in time to catch Butters glancing down at his mouth. Fuck.

He licked at his lips, his heart picking up speed in a way that it only did around Craig (well, only around Craig after Tweek stopped drinking so much coffee). Butters met his eyes and the pair each leaned in slightly. Tweek shifted so that his free hand could more comfortably support his weight. His eyes closed and the anticipation was…kind of exhilarating, like a double shot of espresso.

When he could feel warm, slow breaths against his lips, they both seemed to freeze, eyes fluttering open.

“Craig,” they muttered at the same time. Their faces coloured and they pulled away at the same time, Tweek with a nervous groan and Butters with a sheepish giggle.

“That was, uhm,” Tweek muttered. Butters continued, “Certainly interesting.”

“Yeah. That.”

Tweek rolled onto his back, squeezing Butters’ hand and closing his eyes. Butters rested his shoulder against Tweek’s. That’s where Kenny found them five or so minutes later. He raised an eyebrow, “Are you both sleeping or something?”

Butters grinned with ease, “Nope, just cuddlin’.”

“I’m jealous,” Kenny replied. Tweek heard the sound of something hitting the ground—a backpack, he assumed, he didn’t bother opening his eyes. He heard steps, then felt the bed shift as Kenny climbed on the bed on Butters’ other side, then had to listen as the pair kissed. It was much better to be the one being kissed than having to listen, Tweek decided, opening his eyes and glancing off to the side where the lovebirds weren’t. Kenny pulled off shortly thereafter, and Tweek heard the sounds of whispering. Of course, since he was right there and Butters wasn’t always the quietest, he heard every word.

“Hey, Ken?”

“Mm, babe?”

“Tweek ‘n’ I almost kissed.”

Oh fuck. He was gonna die. Kenny was going to get mad and hate him and kill him and Butters simply squeezed his hand tighter when he tried to pull away.

“What, really?” Too much pressure—“Lucky. Tell me ‘bout it later.”

Wait. What the fuck. He glanced back at the pair, completely unprepared for the easy acceptance and the grin on Kenny’s face.

“Anyway!” Kenny bounced off of the bed, “I got more goodies. No make-up this time, since I figure what if we pass out or something? That’ll mess up our faces. But I did bring nail polish, as promised—”

He pulled out a couple bottles in pale colours, a clinking sound indicating that there were more inside the bag. He dug around the bag and pulled a bundle tied together with a ribbon. He held it up absently, “Tweek, here’s something for you.”

Tweek sat up, finally letting go of Butters’ hand to grab the clothes. He undid the ribbon as Kenny found something for Butters. For some reason, Butters left the room to change. He raised an eyebrow, but Kenny didn’t notice, pulling out his own change of clothes.

Tweek turned his attention back to the clothes on his lap. There were actually two sets of clothes—a set of thin pajamas with imperfect stitches, another button-up (this one a plain and simple white, feminine only by virtue of the lace decorating the hem), and a patchwork skirt.

“I’m pretty sure you can tell the difference between what I made and what Butters did.”

“Huh?” Tweek looked up. Made? Kenny paused, then shrugged off-handedly, “It’s more convenient to make things ourselves. You can get exactly what you want and you can be sure it fits. So we alter or make some of things we wear. Convenience.”

 _Oh_. He understood. But if Kenny wasn’t going to state the real reason, Tweek wouldn’t bring it up, instead setting the pajamas aside and unbuttoning his shirt. He was part of the way through taking off his jeans when Butters walked into the room suddenly. Tweek yelped, and Kenny laughed at him, the bastard. Kenny finished tugging on his cropped hoodie, the pale pink standing out on top of a black tank top. He stood up, walking over to Butters, “Lookin’ good, babe.”

Tweek hurried to change into his skirt before he looked up at Butters. He figured that dresses were more Marj’s aesthetic, but clearly not—Marjorine was dressed up in a loose tunic over a pair of jean shorts and dark tights.

Marjorine smiled at the pair, “You two don’t look too bad either. But Ken, did you bring the sewing kit? A stitch in the shoulder got snapped.”

Kenny took off his jeans before digging into the bag, “I could’ve sworn…”

He reached into the front pocket and found the small tin immediately, “Ah-ha! There y’are, Marj.”

Marjorine gave him a grateful smile, tugging the shirt off. Tweek perched himself on the bed. He didn’t necessarily enjoy being the centre of attention like he had been last time, but he had no clue what he was supposed to do when the other two were doing their own thing.

He bent over to pick up his phone from his jeans pocket, quickly unlocking the phone. Nothing. He opened one of his few apps, a puzzle game that was typically simple enough to not be stressful, but was interrupted almost as soon as the game loaded.

Craig.

“Whatcha up to?” Kenny asked, throwing himself on the bed beside Tweek. He was wearing the same jean shorts he was wearing at homecoming, leaving a lot of leg exposed. Tweek felt his face heat a little at the sight. It had been different then, being in a house full of half-drunk teens where the girls were all dressed like Kenny. In his room? Like everything with Butters earlier, it was weird and intimate and…honestly, strangely comfortable. Tweek brushed the thought aside, pressing the power button on his phone and letting the screen go dark. Craig waited an entire day before texting him—he could wait a couple hours for a response.

“Nothing. I was just going to kill a little time,” Tweek replied. Kenny grabbed Tweek’s phone, “Come on, no phones. Just three gal pals lezzing it up.”

“Gah-gal pals?” Tweek asked just as Marjorine asked, “‘Lezzing’?”

Kenny shook his head with a smile, “Marj, I’m genuinely disappointed. Lezzing out as in lesbians?”

“Lesbians—but we’re not—we’re guys!” Tweek protested, hands fidgeting with the hem of his skirt. Kenny’s grin grew, “ _That’s_ your objection?”

“Yeah?” he responded, tone unsure. Was he missing something?

“So you would have no problem being gay with us?”

“No! Wait—” Tweek caught himself a moment too late, his face flushing bright red. He didn’t need to look to know that Kenny was smiling at him like a predator. He didn’t want to know what kind of look Marjorine was wearing, because it would either embarrass him or endear him further. He didn’t know which would be worse. He stared at the floor, trying to think of anything else besides the other two in the room. Marjorine broke the silence a moment later, “Craig.”

“Craig,” Tweek responded, giving a small smile to Marjorine, “Exactly.”

“Speaking of, what’s going on with him? He’s been all pissy the past couple of days,” Kenny asked. “Trouble in paradise?”

“Tactful,” Marjorine remarked. Kenny rolled his eyes playfully, “Hey, you like when I’m honest. Especially about the way it feels when—”

“Ken!” Marjorine interrupted, already able to sense that the conversation was going in an R-rated direction. Kenny grinned, sliding off of the bed and crawling into his lap, “Sorry.”

The way he started kissing at Marjorine’s neck with a self-satisfied smirk called his sincerity into question. Tweek and Marjorine groaned for entirely different reasons.

“Get a room!”

“Don’t be jealous, I’d kiss you too,” Kenny replied. “Anyway. Focus. Girl’s nights require gossip and we’re an open book. Which leaves you.”

Tweek glared, “We’re not talking about Craig.”

“Boo! Why not?”

“Because I don’t ah-appreciate you trying to coerce me!” Tweek crossed his arms. Marjorine gave a small sigh, “I’m sorry, Tweek. Ken’s a little forceful, but we’re really just concerned. You’ve both been rather frustrated recently.”

“You’re not even friends with Craig.”

Kenny opened his mouth, but Marjorine immediately covered it with his hand, “We’re friends with you, though. Just…if you do want to talk, we’re here.”

Tweek paused. Then took a breath, sliding onto the floor, “I just…what colours did you bring?”

The abrupt change in topics was missed by nobody, but the other two let the conversation go easily. Kenny slid off of Marjorine’s lap to get to his backpack, pulling out about a dozen small glass vials of polish, already describing some of his ideas.

 

The sun had set and the boys were lying on Tweek’s bed, Marjorine and Kenny at his sides. He held a hand up, staring at the mint green. He had kept it rather plain, only letting Marjorine add a few white stripes to his pinkie nails. A smaller, more tan hand appeared beside his, the nails a rather dramatic red with black dots. Kenny grinned when Tweek glanced at him, and Tweek was only distracted when another hand bumped into his. The nails were white with mint green stripes; Marjorine seemed all too happy at the thought of matching. Butters sent him a small smile, bumping their shoulders gently.

Kenny sat up suddenly, “Hey, let’s play truth or dare.”

“That’s so cliché,” Tweek raised an eyebrow as he slowly rose up. Marjorine curled up into the heat he left behind, and Tweek absent ran a hand through Marjorine’s hair. Kenny shrugged, “Well, we can’t really play spin the bottle or seven minutes in heaven.”

“There aren’t enough of us,” Tweek replied.

“Shh,” Kenny insisted. “It’ll be great. I’ll even let you both go before me. Okay?”

Tweek rolled his eyes, but paused a moment before replying, “Fine. Kenny, truth or—”

“Dare!”

He was all too excited for it. Tweek couldn’t really think of anything that Kenny _wouldn’t_ do and he couldn’t think of anything that wouldn’t disappoint Kenny. Oh-oh no—fuck, too much pressure—and he felt something tugging on his sleeve and he looked down at Marjorine. He sat up, leaning close to whisper in Tweek’s ear. Tweek could feel his breath and it sent more shivers down his spine than it should have.

“Nothing will embarrass him, so just have fun with it. Prank calls or somethin’.”

“Uh, I—gah!—guess. Uhm, prank call Cartman,” Tweek said. When Kenny pulled out his phone all-too-easily, he added, “Wait, make it sound like you meant to call his mom about—about, what was it? Ngh, ‘adult tutoring’.”

Kenny paused for a moment, grinning, “That might actually work because he always deletes my number.”

“What, why?” Marjorine asked, wrapping his arms loosely around Tweek’s waist. Tweek wouldn’t admit that he melted a little bit at that. Kenny shrugged as he went to his contacts, “Fuck if I know. Probably thinks I’m too poor to have a number or some bullshit.”

His smile had faded somewhat at the question but quickly grew back into a mischievous grin as he put the phone on speaker, the phone ringing. As soon as the call was picked up, Kenny spoke in a deeper voice, “Cartman?”

“Who is this?” a familiar voice that was very much not Cartman’s answered.

Kenny nearly dropped the phone as Marjorine and Tweek shared a surprised glance. Kenny’s eyes lit up like Christmas came early, “Kyle?”

“What? Wait- Kenny, is that you?”

“What are you doing with Cartman’s phone?”

There was a mumble of ‘shit,’ before Kyle replied, “I- uh- I accidentally grabbed his phone instead of mine when Stan and I left.”

The other two might have believed that if Cartman’s voice didn’t come from the background. Too indistinct to make out the actual words, but no one could sound quite like Cartman.

Tweek and Marjorine both mumbled bemused curses.

“I thought they- gah!- hated each other. Didn’t Broflovski fight him the other day?”

“Wait,” the phone interrupted. “Kenny, are you with someone else?”

Kyle cursed, “Fuck, Kenny—who’s there with you?”

“Calm your tits, Kyle,” Kenny replied easily. “I’m just hangin’ out. Girl’s night in.”

“Girl’s night—what? You’re not cheating on Butters, are you? That’s so fucking low, Kenny—”

“Puh-lease, like I’d cheat on that gorgeous ass. Right, babe?”

“Aw, geez, Ken,” Marjorine flushed, a shy smile on his face. Tweek gave a chuckle, “I’m—ah!—I’m here too.”

“Is that Tweek? Since when do you hang out with Tweek?” Kyle asked. Kenny glanced at Tweek before shrugging, “For a little while now. We can talk about this later—we’re actually busy right now.”

“ _You_ called _me_!”

“I called _Cartman_. Which we’re totally talking about tomorrow. Later, dude. Remember to wear a condom!”

Kenny hung up just as Kyle started a series of flustered protests. He wasn’t fooling anyone with his ‘it’s not like that’s.

“Well. That was a pretty enlightening dare. Marj, your turn—wait. Changing the rules a little. We’re doing shots.”

“Shots? Why?”

“Because alcohol makes things more fun,” Kenny replied. “If you pick truth, you have to take a shot. If you pick a dare and do it, we take a shot. If you fail, uh…you do two shots.”

“This is a terrible idea,” Tweek put in. The hopeful glimmer in Kenny’s eyes made him sigh. “Dad keeps liquor and whiskey in the pantry. We don’t have any beer or anything.”

“I’ll be right back!” Kenny excitedly tore out of bed. Tweek rolled his eyes in amusement, laying back down and taking Marjorine with him. Tweek sighed, “I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?”

Marjorine chuckled, “I honestly don’t know. Kenny’s a lightweight because of how small he is, and he mostly just gets really cuddly when he’s drunk. So if you don’t want a lap full of blonde, then…”

Tweek would very much not mind a lap full of blonde. A part of his mind guilted him with a reminder of Craig. But it was just cuddling. It didn’t mean anything, especially since being a distant jackass was fair game.

Tweek gave a small hum, running a hand through Marjorine’s hair. They had decided to go wigless today, so he didn’t have to stress about displacing anything. He heard a door downstairs open and shut soon after, and he listened for the sound of Kenny’s light footfalls on the stairs. His eyes flickered open when he heard much more solid steps. They paused about halfway up the stairs and there was the sound of muted conversation. He sent a glance at Marjorine. Was one of his parents home? What if they opened his doors and decided that skirts were just too much and threw him out and Marjorine was holding his hand, that helped, and _Craig_. That was Craig’s voice. What the fuck?

“Fuck off, McCormick! I don’t need your permission to see my boyfriend!”

“Did you even ask? This whole thing is part of the problem—get _down_ here, Tucker!”

The steps continued up the stairs, followed by the hurried sound of Kenny’s softer footsteps. Oh fuck. Craig was going to see—Craig was going to hate him, he was never going to talk to him again—too much pressure and Butters kept _touching him let him go_. He could barely acknowledge the door open and it was like everything changed in that instant. What had felt comfortable and safe and secret a few minutes ago now felt like some unspoken rule that had been broken, some sacred place that had been violated. Tweek didn’t feel like Tweek-in-a-skirt anymore. He felt like Craig Tucker’s messed-up boyfriend. He gave a whine, shoving Butters away as he curled up. There was hardly a moment before he heard Craig, “Hey, no, babe, don’t cry—fuck—”

He wanted to stop, to calm down, but he couldn’t and Craig was upset and he was going to dump him and never look at him again and—

“Hey, shh, Tweek,” he heard, then, “Tweek, hey, can you tell me what’s wrong?”

“Craig—gah!—I don’t—don’t hate me, I’m sorry, I’ll—”

“Don’t apologise,” a hand was brushing through his hair, stop _touching_ stop _touching stopstopstop_ , “Are you feeling overwhelmed? Need space?”

Quieter, “Back the fuck off, Tucker.”

Quieter still, “Let me help him.”

“We’ve got this.” Kenny. They were getting frustrated. Upset. His fault, all his fault, fuck _fuck_ and Butters _kept on touching_ , “Shh, breath in, 4 seconds. Hold for seven—Tweek, breath with me, please.”

In, 4 seconds. Hold, 7.

“Okay, that’s good—out for eight seconds, just keep on doing that. In for four—fellas, can you clear out?”

“Let me—”

Hold, 7. 1, 2—

“Come _on_ , Tucker.”

5, 6, 7. Out, 8.

“That’s good, keep going.”

Tweek lost count of how many times he breathed, but he eventually muttered, “No touch.”

Butters immediately got it, backing off. He kept breathing. Tweek kept breathing. In, 4. Hold, 7. Out, 8.

“Do you want a fidget spinner? Does that help ya?”

Tweek gave a small nod. He calmed down, slowly. Bit by bit.

Eventually, he was able to wipe his eyes and sit up, “I’m…sorry?”

“Don’t even start, you’re perfectly fine,” Marjorine insisted. “I’m gonna talk to the boys. You have anything you want me to say?”

“Tell Craig I’m sorry.”

“Oh, what for? Tweek, you’ve—”

“Marj, please.”

“Oh, geez, alright,” Marjorine replied, though he still seemed reluctant. “I’ll be back, though. Okay?”

Tweek gave a nod, turning his attention to his fidget spinner once he was alone, watching the blurred motion. He heard muted conversation from the hallway and part of him wanted to be irritated that they were probably talking about him, making decisions for him, treating him like—in for 4. Hold for seven. Out for eight.

Marjorine entered a few minutes later, though it felt like almost an hour. He moved to sit on the bed, “Hey, will you be okay on your own?”

“Huh?”

“Well, uh, Ken and I were gonna clear out,” Marjorine replied. They were supposed to spend the night. Tweek’s free hand started to pick at his nails. “And…Craig?”

Marjorine glanced to the side before replying, “He, uh. Walked out. Got fed up with Ken, I guess.”

Tweek bit at his lip, feeling another surge of tears. He wasn’t even sure why he was so upset. It wasn’t like they had been on the best of terms lately.

“I…”

“Hey, we can stay. Or just me, if you’re sore with Ken. It’s fine.”

“I, uh…”

He really wanted a mug of coffee. The fidget spinner fell off of his twitchy fingers and he gave a yelp. Marjorine watched him patiently and he eventually muttered, “I’ll. I’ll be fine. Alone. Thank you.”

“Alright. You sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I’ll get Ken and pack up, okay?” Marjorine gave him a smile. “We’ll leave the pjs for you if you wanna wear ‘em tonight.”

Tweek nodded and Marjorine walked over to the door, opening it. Ken stepped inside, expression sour. Marjorine kept up a steady stream of white noise as the pair packed up their belongings and gave Tweek a hand squeeze and a ‘good night’ as he left. Ken was silent. Tweek squeezed Marjorine’s hand back, muttering a ‘be safe.’

While he was glad to escape reality via sleep, Tweek’s fingers still twitched for a cup of coffee.

 

Tweek woke up far too early. He had gone to bed soon after the others had left, which couldn’t have been long past nine. Maybe ten. No wonder he was awake by…seven? He rarely woke up that early without his alarm. He didn’t feel any less groggy, though.

He slipped out of bed, and almost left his room before he looked down at himself. He hadn’t even changed into pajamas last night and he didn’t want to risk being seen in a skirt. Tweek quickly changed into a pair of sweats and a t-shirt from some space museum. He tried not to think of why he had the shirt as his fingers twitched.

He hurried downstairs, relieved to find no one in the common space. His parents would probably be down soon enough to eat before heading off to the coffee shop, but he enjoyed the quiet.

Inside the kitchen, he glanced at the empty coffee maker. His fingers twitched, and he turned to the pantry. The top shelf was more disorderly than usual, and he was reminded of Kenny’s quest for alcohol. He didn’t have a clue if Kenny put it back or took it with him.

It shouldn’t be something he had to question. Butters and Kenny were supposed to stay the night. Craig messed everything up because he couldn’t lay off. He grabbed a box of cereal, ignoring the way the cardboard caved in his hand. It wasn’t like anyone needed to read the nutritional information anyway.

He made it through a very twitch-y breakfast with a minimal amount of spills and only glancing a couple of times at the coffee maker.

Craig would be disappointed.

But he didn’t need to know. He didn’t need to know anything, he had no right, he was too restrictive and—

Tweek found himself half an hour later in his room, a hot mug of coffee in his hands. It was comfortably bitter and his body relaxed.

 

His parents were none the wiser—he finished the entire pot throughout the course of Sunday. Considering how high his previous rates of consumption were ~~before he quit~~ , he wasn’t that concerned. He didn’t make another pot of coffee, which was another point of pride. He didn’t need to quit—he could restrict himself. He could.

That’s what he told himself Monday morning as he fixed himself a cup of coffee from what was leftover in the pot. His fingers twitched, the coffee almost splashing, but he stilled himself with a sip.

He was fine.

 

He had mastered his twitching by the time he got to school. He genuinely wasn’t sure whether to blame the caffeine thrumming through his system or his own nerves that Craig might find out. He wasn’t even sure why he cared. Craig lost the right to bitch at him by being so over-protective. He wasn’t ten anymore and—an uncomfortable shudder ran down his spine as he stood at his locker. It was like someone was watching him. The thought made another shudder race down his spine, and he tried to focus on opening his locker.

He was reaching inside to pull a textbook out when he noticed a pair of feet standing beside him. He gave a yelp, jumping up and banging his head on the corner of the locker.

“Fuckshit!” he cried, holding his head as he sat back on his butt.

“Fuck, Tweek, are you okay?” Craig asked, kneeling beside him. “Do you need ice?”

“Ngh—I-I’m fine,” Tweek said. His head throbbed, and his body twitched.

“Are you sure?”

Tweek paused before he responded, “No, not—ah!—really.”

Craig chuckled and wrapped an arm around Tweek’s waist, helping him up and slamming the locker door, “Alright, babe—Tweek.”

Tweek gave a whine, even though he had no right to complain. It still hurt.

“Does it hurt that bad?” Craig asked. Yes. But the head wound didn’t hurt that much. “We’re almost there, h—Tweek. Okay?”

Tweek gave a nod, fidgeting with the strap of his bag with his outside hand. The hand that hung between him and Craig twitched. The rest of the walk was passed in silence until they got to the nurse’s office. The nurse gave them a look, “Need something?”

Tweek gave a yelp at being addressed, and Craig gave him a concerned glance before replying, “Yeah, we need an ice pack.”

“That’s all?” she asked, walking over to the small freezer unit. She pulls out an ice pack and grabs some paper tiles to wrap it in. Craig gave a nod and Tweek muttered a ‘thank you’ as he took the pack and placed it on his forehead. He let Craig lead him out of the nurse’s office, and they took a seat out in the hallway.

“I…Tweek, am I…upsetting you?” Craig asked. Tweek stared at him with wide eyes, “What? Gah, no! Wh-why would you th-think that? Ngh!”

“You’re not usually this twitchy around…you’re not usually this twitchy unless you’re nervous,” Craig replied. “Not since…wait.”

Shit.

“Tweek, you’re just nervous, right?”

Tweek looked down. His fingers twitched, and the ice pack fell to his lap. He didn’t bother grabbing it.

“Tweek, I thought—it’s been two years,” Craig replied. Tweek bit at his lips. Part of him wanted to lash out. Part of him wanted to cry. He compromised.

He blinked tears out of his eyes as he shoved himself away from Craig, “It’s not like you—ngh!—care anyway!”

“Why wouldn’t I care?” Craig asked. He didn’t bother to initiate contact, and Tweek gave a shudder, “Why don’t you tell me?”

“Tweek, I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s wrong; I’m not a mind-reader! Talk to me,” Craig said. He leaned closer but didn’t touch. His mildly monotonous tone was tinged with desperation, “Please.”

“What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with _you_?” Tweek shouted. “You’re not calling me ‘babe,’ you’re being all—all—gah!—controlling!”

“Kenny has it out for me—”

“It’s not—not about you! Not everything is about you, dammit!”

“Yeah, but—” Craig cuts himself off and takes a deep breath. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m…worried, but you’re…you’re an individual and a wonderful person and someone else noticed that. I’m…just please stop being so closed off, babe. I can’t take it.”

“I…” Tweek stopped, the anger shedding off of him. He twitched, giving an involuntary yelp. This is why he quit (but the high felt so good). He leaned in towards Craig, resting his head on the other’s shoulder. He fumbled for the other’s hand, but held it tightly in his hands once he had it. “I’m s-sorry, Craig. I just—ngh—take it when you’re…p-people always try to put me in a—ngh—box. I couldn’t stand i-it when you did too.”

“It must have been suffocating.”

“So much, Craig—gah! So much,” Tweek mumbled. “I’m just me. I just wanna be me.”

“Oh, honey,” Craig said, placing a kiss on Tweek’s forehead. He asked hesitantly, “Am…am I stopping you from that?”

“Honestly? Kind of,” Tweek admitted. “I-I’m always ‘Craig’s boyfriend’ now. It’s. Pressure. And th-then you’re—ngh!—all…possessive.”

“I’m sorry, babe, I never wanted you to feel—”

“I know. I know,” Tweek assured him, squeezing his hand gently. He gave a small smile, though it was lost when his eye twitched. “I guess we should’ve—gah!—t-talked.”

He gave a chuckle, “For South Park’s longest couple, we’re absolute shit at this—gah!”

“Communication,” Craig replied simply. “I’ll…you be more honest about when you’re feeling like this, please, babe? And I’ll try to be less of a controlling dickbag.”

“And n-no more coffee,” Tweek added. “I-I’m starting to—ngh!—remember why I quit.”

“Hopefully you don’t have to go through withdrawals again.”

Tweek either shivered at the thought or twitched. It was unclear which. It was probably the former, considering that most of what he remembered was that withdrawals were the most taxing weeks of his life.

The warning bell rang overhead, and Tweek jumped with a yelp. Craig gave a chuckle as he stood, helping Tweek up. Tweek glared at him, though there was no malice in it.

“Class or ditch? I think we could probably count this as a medical emergency,” Craig asked. Tweek rolled his eyes, but smiled. He thought it over, “H-honestly? Gah! Let’s ditch.”

Craig gave a small cheer. Tweek added, “I can show you what—ngh—Butters, Kenny, and I got up to.”

“What? It better not be sexual.”

“Craig, geez—”

“Sorry. But hey, babe, guess what?”

Tweek turned to him with a raised eyebrow, “Yeah?”

Craig leaned in and kissed him, “You make me soooo happy.”

Tweek giggled, “Tucker, that’s so fucking gay.”

“Damn right.”

And yeah, it was awkward and embarrassing and Tweek twitched the whole time. But Craig just smiled and complimented him and Tweek felt like he was just Tweek-in-a-skirt to him.


End file.
